


NFWMB

by Shekiyah



Category: Andrew Hozier-Byrne (Musician), NFWMB - Hozier (Song)
Genre: Apocalypse, Drinking, F/M, Fear, Fear of Death, Masturbation, Pre-Apocalypse, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25428676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shekiyah/pseuds/Shekiyah
Summary: Is love during the apocalypse enough? She's beautiful. She's capable. She's yours. Why are you afraid?
Comments: 6
Kudos: 4





	NFWMB

Her heels echoed on the cobblestone of the streets as she spun, arms outstretched, through the fog. The night had a dull hum in the air and the streets were all but empty. 

He pulled his leather jacket around him tighter as he followed in her wake. He was entranced by the beautiful girl, spinning and singing with a bottle of spirits in her hand. 

His wild-eyed lover had insisted on going out, regardless of what the news warned. Fires broke out everywhere and businesses had metal bars and wooden boards on them. They had found a half awake gas station attendant that lazily checked them out with their purchase of spirits and locked the station on their departure.

"Is it really safe to be out?" He called to her, watching as her floral dress flew in the wind and her giggle seemed in time with a faint rumbling of the ground. 

"Oh silly, of course it is!" She said, running back to him and taking his hands. 

Her eyes were wild and bright. Her smile spread across her face. So painfully expansive; so many teeth.

Her laughter rang louder, the earth shaking at their feet. She led him backwards, holding his hands, blowing on them to keep him warm. She was impossibly warm for having no coat. Her brown eyes were almost reflective in the dim light of the tall street lamps. 

"Alright, baby," he murmured. He followed his love. 

Under a flickering light, a young boy came into view from the fog. He faced away from them. All they could see was his muddy brown coat and short black hair as the child looked up at the arch of the iron cemetery gates. 

"Hey buddy, what are you doing out tonight?" He called. "Are you lost? Do you need help?"

His love looked over her shoulder, releasing his hands before running up the block toward the boy.

"Wait!" He hissed as he grabbed for her and missed. Her laughter rang loud.

The child didn't move, but he could swear he heard a low moan erupt from that direction as the ground rumbled at their feet.

His love took a big swig from her bottle before dancing into the gateway and around the boy. She grabbed the boy's little hands and swung him around. His blood ran cold when he got closer and she began dancing with the child. 

The boy's eyes were milky and his face a muddled gray in the dim light. He lifelessly followed her lead, swaying in the gateway as she grabbed and moved him. The horizon gave a faint glow as fires raged nearby. 

"What's wrong with him?" He asked hoarsely, the sound carrying. 

For the first time, he realized how truly quiet the world around him was, save for a low humming and the rumbles as the earth shook faintly. 

His love's eyes shone bright as her hair became wilder in the fog and breeze. She lunged and grabbed his arm, dragging him past the boy and into the cemetery. 

"Isn't it exciting tonight?" She asked, kissing his lips softly before dragging him between gravestones. "The world just feels so alive."

"The news said it wasn't safe," he whispered. He didn't quite understand why he was afraid to make too much noise, but he was. 

She ignored him, leading him farther away from the wrong looking boy and into the graveyard. 

"You've always had such a kind heart," she said warmly, leaning against him and running her tongue against his lips. 

He melted into her arms as she looked up at him. Her body was impossibly warm for not having a jacket. His brows furrowed. He quickly took his jacket off and wrapped it around her shoulders, immediately getting goosebumps from the night air.

"Do you have a fever, love?" He asked, concerned. "We shouldn't be out in the chill if you're sick."

She smiled wickedly, further ignoring him. He was used to it. She always did whatever she wanted. He would follow her anywhere.

"Your heart might be kind," she whispered, leaving light kisses up his jaw and to his ear. "But the rest of you is mine."

He smiled and shivered.

"I'm always yours, baby," he said. 

Content with his answer, she pulled away, pulling him across more graves. He started to notice something strange. Some of the ground seemed to be disrupted. He frowned. 

She pulled him to a stop and proceeded to sit on top of the foot of a gravesite, pulling him down with her. 

One hand idly held his as the other held her fifth of spirits. She lazily took a sip before leaning back and laying on the freshly filled grave. She kicked off her heels and dug her toes into the soft earth. She let go of the bottle and it spilled at their feet as she cupped her ear to the ground and giggled. 

"Psssst," she said, impossibly wide smile beaming. "Listen." 

She pulled him to lay down beside her with his ear to the ground. He listened. When they lay perfectly still, he felt it. The ground was moving. There was a muffled moan coming from the grave. The entire ground felt alive as she laughed again, covering her mouth with her hand to muffle the noise. 

His hair raised on the back of his neck. This was all wrong. The ground shouldn't be churning as it was. The horizon was getting impossibly brighter, but it was ages before the sun was to rise. He looked at his love, who's face had absolutely no fear on it. She only found pleasure in this world. Her eyes were shut in ecstasy.

She hummed, writhing on the grave, letting go of his hand and exploring her own flesh. She moaned, and the world seemed to moan with her, shaking and trembling as her toes curled. Her flashing eyes opened to lock with his. Her hand reached for his, pulling it to her impossibly warm body.

He hesitated against her will. Not long. Just long enough so her pull of his hand to her breast was not a smooth movement. His hand followed her every curve, already memorized in his head. Forever engrained.

He started to feel the grave under him move more freely, as if fingers were pressing against his back. Moving. Searching. 

Her brows furrowed at his look of hesitancy and fear. He rolled to face her, only his side against the churning ground, both hands paying tribute to his lover's soft flesh.

When they reached the curve of her belly, he felt a sharp kick against his hands and the grave lurched under him. 

Her whisper was somehow sharp, her eyes held the fire of the burning horizon.

"Ain't you my baby?"


End file.
